Dragon Age 2: Astaarit Asaaranda - Rise Thunderstorm
by N7PhoenixFox
Summary: A story which follows Hawke as she gains the respect of the Arishok, perhaps more, and then meets him years later after he left Kirkwall. Hawke having thought that would be the last time she ever saw him. AU for later chapters. Also M for that reason.
1. Chapter 1

[#1] of Astaarit Asaaranda [Rise Thunderstorm]

The missive came in the early hours of the morn with an unexpected armoured guard. She'd been in her room at the time, just on her way back out to the hallway after dressing when she heard Bodan's nervous call for her.

"My Lady Hawke." Lite reached the balcony overlooking the main room, her brows narrowed at his tone. "Ah, there you are, " he clasped his hands together in front of him, his shoulders lifted a little at the sight of her.

"What is it?" She asked, and started for the stairs. Lite wondered what had the dwarf so flustered. It certainly wasn't any of her companions otherwise she would have been able to hear the ruckus.

"It appears there is a message for you, my Lady." When she looked to her desk where they were usually piled, she raised an eyebrow at him when she found it was empty.

"O-out side," he pointed to the entrance, where a short room with benches met the front door. It was built for visitors to the Manor House. "A rather large man," the dwarf placed his hands in front of him again. "W-with a message. I believe it's quite urgent."

"Hm," Lite turned her white eyes gaze to the door. Sandal was in his usual corner, seemingly content and unfazed by the unannounced guest. Her mother was out, at a friends house - no doubt trying to arrange more damn suitors for her, or some other rubbish along those lines.

And if she returned with any more hideous gowns, she felt sure she'd throw them from the cities battlements or hand them out to the poor in Low town. She was sure they'd made some nice scarves, or curtains - as she certainly wouldn't be wearing them.

Lite found she would always be a Hawke. No matter if Lothering was no longer there, she still felt as if she were a Fereldan Farmer and not a noble Amell. Bethany would have enjoyed the lifestyle, and she experienced a slight twinge in her chest at the thought of her sister.

Carver was no better. Had he not been handed over to the Grey Wardens to save his life, he would have been more happier working in the city guard - doing work, and not sipping tea with some nobles in High Town.

But since he was no longer with them, that meant her Mother had been left with her. The one who couldn't save her younger siblings, was an apostate and couldn't control her temper even on the best of days.

She eyes the door to the entrance, her thoughts already set an dampener for the day. Unperturbed that the vistor would be a threat, she was quite certain her magic would hold against one guard and she would be able to protect the two dwarves who were the only others in the house. Her Mabari had found he liked it better in The Hanged Man, with Varric - she was inclined to agree with him.

Starting for the door, Bodan followed after with his shorter legs while ringing his hands nervously. She reached the door and pressed it open with her cool fingers, her head tilted through before the rest of her body followed.

A Qunari stood in her homes entrance. Her brows must have reached her dark hair line. The large ox stood bolt straight, his spear attached to his back and appeared to be staring at one of the pictures hanging on the wall. Her painting her Mother had purchased somewhere of a sand like plane, with crystal blue waters in the distance.

She cleared her throat lightly, as she took a step further into the room and crossed her arms behind her. Bodan remained in the doorway. The Qunari turned instantly at the sound, and if he was affected by her seeing his enquiry of her art, he didn't show it.

"A message for Serah Hawke,"he spoke far more quickly than she expected. Usually the Qunari she met liked to give her a hard state before they relinquished any words. Lite noticed that while he knew the Common tongue, his words were still heavily accented.

He was a infantry commander too. A rank close to the Arishok.

An imagine of the golden haired Arishok crossed her thoughts. Why was he asking after her now? She had been to the compound on a number of occasions, either at the behest of the Viscount or because she'd discovered something which linked the Qunari and wished to speak with their leader of it.

That stubborn brick wall of a man infuriated her. And the very fact that he could get under her skin so easily unsettled her, and so she avoided the compound by the docks as much as possible. Unless it was completely necessary to cross those guarded gates. She wasn't easily fazed, living with two siblings who hit below the belt and knew exactly which buttons to press. Being a Mage on the run also, meant it took a lot of digging to get to her. To make her feel.

She scowled slightly, "Is the Arishok in some sort of trouble?" She asked, after probably an overly long moment of silence.

The Karasten gave her a strange look, which was, as to be expected, unreadable to her. Had she just insulted him by saying that? Hawke could never be sure with the Qunari. Their culture seemed so simple, and yet it confused her entirely. Especially on how tolerant they were; some she had met had a slight humour, then there were those like the Arishok who were die hard and seemed to want to snap her neck in two.

From what she observed, they were one and yet there were many individuals at the same time.

"The Arishok wishes for your presence. Immediately." Well, there was no room for interpretation there. No invitation what-so-ever, a simple command and 'I expect you to follow'. Lite fought the urge to roll her eyes. Most people were like that with her nowadays.

Lite wondered how long her tolerance would last with it. Probably not that much longer, if her temper had anything to say about it.

But that day would not be the day. So instead she said, "I have to change. Tell the Arishok I will be there as soon as I am able."

She saw only the slightest of change in the Karasten's expression, a glint to the eye. And she was pretty sure she'd be the only one to see it as she appeared to be the only one in the city who looked at them, and spent as much time in their compound. He was obviously unhappy with her answer.

Lite resisted the urge to throw her arms up in the air and jest 'I'll just drop everything and come right this second, shall I?' Instead she kept her straight face and said, "Farwell." With a nod, she turned on her heels and stared for Bodan who looked white as a sheet.

The dwarf back peddled slightly to let her through, then looked at the door as she closed it behind her.

"He can show himself out," she explained, looking down at him. Then she started a brisk walk to the stairs and her bedroom.

She'd only just put her clothes on for the day, and she honestly didn't know why she bothered. It usually only took a few hours before there was some need for her armour. One day she might just end up sleeping in it.

Now that she thought about it, she often did when she stayed too late at the Hanged man, drank far too much to be able to walk and hijacked Varric's bed at the inn for the night. Much to his annoyance. Of course the Dwarf was also equally as gone, and so he refused to give up with bed which usually ended up in her jabbing him with one part of her metal armour or other as they fought for space.

When she was younger, her and her singlings would often sleep 'top and tail' in a shared bed in one of their two rooms. Both her brother and sister had found out that hard way that she kicked in her sleep - once Varric knew that, he refused to sleep anywhere near her armoured toes and would not relinquish his pillow either.

Clicking the last of the straps to her knee buckles and gauntlets, she readjusted the pointed plate on her shoulder and grabbed her bladed staff which stood by the door. Securing in the hooks at her back, Light closed her bedroom door behind her and again, made her way down the stairs.

She would forgo breakfast that morning. Would get the meeting with the Arishok over, then go and find something to eat. Which would much likely end up with her being caught by her companions and ushered into the Hanged man. They were always there on the free days they had.

"Should I call for Master Tethras or Master Fenris to meet you, Messere?" Bodan called, as he came from the door which led to the kitchens.

"No, Bodan. I'll be fine. They will probably find me at some point, anyway." He nodded his understanding but seemed worried knowing she was heading for the docks alone. "When Mother returns, tell her I will be back later."

"Of course, Messere," he nodded again, and watched her leave.

She shot a return smile at Sandal when she passed as he gave her his goofy looking grin. He was a few Priests short of a Chantry, but a good kid and incredible at enchantments.

Luckily, she didn't run into her Mother as she exited the Amell manor home and hurried down the stone steps to the gate. It would have been the twenty questions game if she was caught leaving the house in her armour, and weapon strapped to her back. Even if Leandra did blame her siblings death on her, she still worried for her oldest child.

Hawke clenched her jaw and spiked fist as she paused at the gate. She needed to stop with those thoughts. With a quick shake of her head to clear them away, Light grasped the white painted gate and slipped through.

It didn't take long to travel from High Town to the Docks. While many stopped to great her, or nod, she did little more than return the gesture before moving on. When one man caught her attention, and began ranting on about some sort of problem he had with her, she stopped him in his tracks by raising a hand and simply saying, "the Arishok awaits me."

That was all it took for him to scarper off. No doubt he didn't want to be the one responsible for making her late to see the leader of their Qunari friends. Lite felt her lips tug up in a smirk as she carried on towards the large steps she'd descended many times before.

The compound was directly to the left from there. The first time she'd been down there after the arrival of the Arishok and his men, she'd almost tripped over her own feet at the sight of the two guards outside the closed gates. She'd known they were there, but haven't never seen a Qunari before, it had been quite a shock. They were so large, with red paint all over them and let's us not forget the horns!

She greeted the two men at the door with a curt nod, and though they did not reciprocate, each outstretched an arm to push the wooden barrier open for her.

Lite only hesitated a moment. There had only been one other time when she'd entered alone, and even then the others had been waiting outside for her. Perhaps she was foolish to step inside the lions den alone - not only because she'd be surrounded, but because she was a Mage.

With a slight shrug to herself, she left her legs move and her booted feet hit the dirt of the inner compound. She watched over her shoulder as the two guards closed the gate behind her. She was only slightly nervous, but not enough that it would deter her. Turning up alone might solidify the message that while he sometimes infuriated her, she was not afraid of the seven foot giant who sat on his chair like it was a throne.

With another smirk at that image, she spun on her heels and headed for the corner which rounded to the area he spoke with people. She knew that beyond that point was where they had set up their tents, and where the bulk of the people he'd traveled with stayed hidden. They were private people, she found, and didn't like idiots looking on them with mouths gawking, ready to catch flies.

As soon as she stepped out from behind the wall, she felt the eyes on the Arishok on her. When she'd first felt it, it had boiled her temper - she didn't like anyone looking at her for prolonged minutes. Now she simply ignored it, knowing that it was just one of the many things he did which made her want to punch him.

She stopped short of the bottom of the big steps, as she always did. Qunari lined the walls beside her, and she raised her eyes to find the golden haired man in question was leant forward in his throne, his elbows on his knees in a gesture she had come to associate with him.

"Serah Hawke," he said, as he always started their conversations it seemed nowadays.

"Arishok," she intoned. She didn't like being anyone's lackey, at their beck and call, which meant she wasn't going to appear happy about his message.

He was silent then, and she had learnt to ride out those long moments where the Qunari stared. She did not shuffle, or move in nervous tells, she stood still and waiting for him to inform her on why it had been so urgent.

His fingers covered the bottom of his face for a moments, and then he appeared to have made up his mind about something. Preferable to tell her why he'd demanded her presence. If it was simply to show he could, she might have to start a war.

"Come," he gestured for her. "You will have tea with me."

Lite prided herself on being able to curve her expressions and keep a leash on her temper but that couldn't have been farther from what she expected. So much so that her careful mask slipped for a second, and her face must have been a picture, she was sure.

Many resorts came to her then, some of them being: Are you crazy? What? Why? Is this a joke? Have you suddenly developed a sense of humour by inhaling too much as that crap you guys make to poison people, and to piss me off?

"I will not ask again, Hawke." She refrained for informing him that he hadn't asked the first time either.

She blew out a breath, and decided her only options where to accept the crazy proposal or make a run for it. The latter would probably end with a spear in her back. She would bet her small clothes that the Qunari wouldn't take kind to her rejecting their leader.

Her left foot moved forward, and she felt entirely weird inside. Not in all the time they'd been there had she touched the steps, seen anyone other than Qunari touch them or come into close contact with the leader of their armies. Just as she was about to put her toe on the stone, one of his men stepped forward. She gave him a look, then remembered she still had her weapon on her back.

Now was one of those rare moments when she was glad for the curse of being a Mage. They could take her staff, but she could still protect herself. While the spells wouldn't be as strong, her lightening would still pack a punch. She reached around and unclicked it from the hooks. He laid his palms out, and upwards to accept it.

She wondered if he'd be uncomfortable at holding a staff. She had no delusions that the Arishok and his people didn't know exactly what she was, even if he'd never seen her in battle. The Qunai's face didn't change as the wood met his skin. Even as she watched his face closely.

"Look after it,"she told him, and realised it was the first time her weapon had been taken. She'd seen the two men at the bottom of the steps take others, but hers had never been removed. That struck her speechless, then she recovered. "My Asala," she added, in explanation. The staff was from her father, and she knew the Qunari valued their weapons above their lives, they were nothing without them. Asala meant soul, and she'd heard of it from the stories of the Sten who followed the Hero of Fereldan.

The man's face did change them, a flash of something and he bowed his head at her. Her eyes widened slightly, that had been the most respect she'd ever seen them show her. When her eyes traveled back to the Arishok, he was watching her closely with an intense look to his gaze.

Deciding not to linger any longer than needed. Lite lifted her legs and ascended the higher than she thought steps. The Arishok waited until she had almost reached the top for his moment to stand. Hawke barely kept her mouth shut as it tried to slack, and her neck cranked to be able to see his face.

Andrastates tits! He was tall. If he'd done that little move to intimate her, she wasn't about to show it and so she clenched her jaw and met his gaze. He looked down at her for a moment, and she found her head met that middle of his chest. Fuck, he must be able to see for miles up there.

He turned on his heels and stated for a long hallway which had thin pillars run alongside it which lead away from his throne and the part of the compound strangers were permitted in. Lite had to force herself to move after him. She couldn't quite believe it, was quite in shock as she followed his broad back.

When they stepped out into the open, to a collection of tents and noises, she found their camp surrounded by stone wall. As they followed a path, she couldn't help that her mouth fell open and her eyes travelled over everything. At first it was at shock at how many there were, and then it was interest and fascination as she saw a smith working and many hands bustling with work they seemed more than happy to complete.

When they came across the grunt and clashes of metal, she looked to see a combat area where two of the soldiers were squaring off after a brief attack. There were a few watching from the sidelines too. And she saw their was no taunting, but instead they were talking to one another as if training. She hadn't realised her feet had stopped.

"Hawke," the Arishok cautioned, and she hurried to catch up with where he'd waited. He moved onwards and soon she was meant by foreign smell which rushed her nose and made her stomach rumble. Their leader didn't comment on that, thankfully.

She was almost disappointed when they reached a rather large tent, and he gestured for her to enter. She found she wanted to watch the going ons of those around her. It was completely enthralling to watch someone who generally cared for their work, and she was reminded of her time in Lothering.

When her eyes snapped back to the Arishok, there was a knowing look in his eyes which made her want to crawl into the cracks at her feet. Just because she was interested didn't mean she was going to become a convert at the click of a finger!

She gestured to the tent, as if to say she was done and held back from saying 'Age before beauty', that was sure to be an idiom which would annoy him and it was probably best not to provoke him in the centre of his people and their high walls.

The tent opening was so big that he barely had to bend to push his horns through the flaps. They were obviously made for his kind. Hawke followed after, having to push the large canvas aside with two arms. If he noticed, he didn't show it. Not an gentlemen, then. She wanted to snort at that.

Then she noticed the interior. It was spacey, with large bookshelves and a desk to the side. There was also a table with chairs placed on either side where he headed for. It smelt, like the rest of the compound, like spices and oddly enough, the ocean.

He gestured for her to take the seat nearest the entrance and she found herself put at sharp gauntlet hand on the back to pull it out and gently sit on the edge. She didn't want to break anything, and was fearful that she would. Even the damn chair, knowing her luck the legs would snap.

There was a flash of cool air then, she heard the otent flaps as a thin, Elven woman ducked in with a tray holding a steaming kettle. When she looked back to the Arishok, he had lowered his large body into the chair opposite her. Luckily the table was long, and their knees didn't touch. She might just jump out of her skin if that happened.

The Elven woman bowed her head, and place the two cups in front of them. Then set about lifting the kettle, holding the lid and began pouring. Light found herself studying the elf, and was surprised to discover she had the markings of the Dalish. Hawke had never seen one of the travelling elves join the Qun, not that she'd seen many converts.

"Viddathari," she commented aloud, not really thinking and mostly to herself.

The elf jittered a little at being spoken to, or was it that she was in a room with the ever scary Arishok and the ever scary Mage and stranger. "Y-yes, my lady," she replied, just as she set to filling Hawke's cup.

Lite realised her odd eyes could be intimidating, and chose to lower them to the table. When the woman was finished, she bowed and left the kettle where it was. Hawke watched her leave, and suddenly realised she was going to be alone with the Arishok. The leader of the Qunari Armies.

Shit. She was piss poor at small talk.

He studied her for a moment, as he did in his way, and then held the cup in his large, clawed hands before lifting it to his mouth, one finger beneath it to keep it steady. She followed suit, not wanting to appear rude and copied the way he did it.

Her mother had wanted to teach her eticate, how to behaviour around polite society who were not her companions in the least. Who knew it would be the Arishok who would take those first steps. Her lips twisted up at the sides, and then she tasted the tea. It was, well, not like anything she had tasted before. It was rich, and refreshing at the same time.

She breathed out as she lowered it, and found him watching her again. She frowned, and offered, "the tea is nice,"and knew she sounded like a tit.

His expression flickered at that. No, he hadn't liked the description either. He placed his cup down. "Tea made from leaves of plants which only grow in Parvollen."

Her face sobered, and she nodded. "I thought as much. I am honoured that you would allow me to taste it."

"You are interesting, Hawke. For a Bas." He answered, and while he was often silent, his directness always shocked her. It was a contract alright, but when you were seven foot tall and wielded some crazy battle axes, you could afford to offend someone.

She pulled a face at that, "so you have told me before, Arishok. May I ask, why it was that you sent an armoured guard to the home? It was relayed to be quite urgent. Is there something I need to know?"

He studied her again, and she forced herself to keep eye contact. Gold to white. His clawed hand rested on the table top, and she had to stop herself for staring at it. She was sure she'd develop a nervous twitch in her eye by the end off...whenever he say fit to let her leave.

Shite.

"I wished to converse with you. You, Hawke, are the only Bas I have met in this rotten pustule of a city who are worth the words and time of the Qun."

Her eyes crinkled slightly at the sides. "So I have helped your people a few times, if only the others knew how easy it was to get on your good sides," she hoped he could see the humour in her words.

He tilted his head and looked down his nose at her. It caused the gold trim of his horns to shine in the fire of the torches on the walls. "No," that was certainly a word his race knew how to use. Sometimes the only common word they knew. "You have shown respect, a subtle understanding." Meaning she hadn't condemned his people right off the bat. She'd been excited to first see them, in fact.

"A tolerance for learning, not just rejecting our words like so many of your foolish kin do," he continued.

"You show promise," and he said that with so much conviction that she shivered.

Her face was blank for long moments, and he seemingly allowed her time to think on that. She lifted her cup and took another sip of the worm liquid, then wrapped her hands around to keep them warm, her sharp armoured fingers clicked like his claws.

She found herself in a sticky situation. If she came out and said no, he would be angry at her lack of tact, that was for sure. She needed to question, to show that she was not simply saying no, but had thought about it. He would respect that.

So many questions came to mind then. But one hung over her head. She was a Mage - they did awful things to them. She daren't ask, didn't want to her his answer. Her face twisted at her emotions. It seems futile to be accepted into something, only for those people to fear her.

And so she said so. Direct and to the point. "Your people would fear me, Arishok. What good would come from being accepted into the Qun, only to be judged for something I can not control."

His eyes flickered. He liked debates, she found. "Your role would change little, Hawke." That took her by surprise. She had to school her features again and think. He didn't push her, instead watched as she formed her words carefully. He liked consideration to ones speech.

"What does that mean?" She settled on the relative safety of a question.

His claws clicked on the table top, and she managed to keep her eyes on his face. "The Arishok can not speak for the Tamassran, but I summarise that your potential would not be squandered. You will be placed where you are most productive. The role in which you belong."

"That isn't a lot to go on," her face was tight. "To throw my life, and freedom away and not be sure what I was walking in to."

He seemed angered by that. "You would trust the Qun to know what is best for you. There is no freedom where you are now, only chaos, you would find it in the Qun."

"I don't like to be unprepared," she countered. "I am a warrior, and I would not walk into a fight with my hands bound and my eyes covered. Only to listen for instructions from someone on the sidelines."

He leaned forward, as if to engage himself more. His golden eyes more real then she'd ever seen them. "No, you would not be listening to orders. As part of the Qun, you would feel it with your entire body upon that battlefield. You would not question what was to be done, and you would not fall or folter because of it."

She was stunned slightly at that, at his absolute conviction in his words. There was no doubt, no hesitation that it would be the best thing for her.

"And the Qun who accept me, without reservation?" She couldn't help the dubious look cross her face at that, and her hangs tightened around the little ceramic mug.

He placed both elbows in the table surface, much like the pose he did in his throne. "The Qun would place you where you needed to be, and in doing so you would find yourself whole - not 'accepted'. Those under the Qun are one."

Lite couldn't deny that they worked in Union. It was certainly a sight to see everyone working together, and it not being a constant tug of war. Even her companions, with them close friends and family, it still sometimes too a miracle for them to all turn up in the same place at the same time. Her eyes shifted to the floor, then to the tent flats. She could hear the people outside still, faintly and knew she could not deny that much at least.

She opened her mouth to...what? What could she say to it all? Luckily to absent Maker sent a silver lining when there was a voice at the tent flaps. The person spoke in Qulat, and the Arishok answered in it. Then another elf appeared, his head ducked. He appeared less nervous, and must have been a convert for a longer time.

She tilted her brows at that. Was the Arishok trying to send her a subliminal message? That there were many converts - look! See? The male elf had pale blonde, brown hair pulled back over his head and lacked any blood tattoos. His accent wasn't the same as the other elf, she wondered then if the Qunari went round recruiting or the elves went looking.

He bowed his head to the Arishok, then placed his hands behind his back as intelligent green eyes handed on her. "Serah Hawke," he greeted. Light nodded once in return. "A messenger has arrived for you," he said, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

"A messenger?" Hawke raised an eye brow. It appeared she wasn't going to be left alone that day. Two in a row.

Lite caught that the elf's lips twitched up in the corners. "Yes, along with four of the city guards."

She frowned. Then there was no question who it was. The Viscount probably heard of her journey to the docks alone and undoubtedly wanted her to report in. The old man was paranoid beyond belief and she wouldn't put it past him to accuse her of consorting with the Qunari.

"It appears duty calls," Hawke remarked, dryly and sighed. When she rolled her eyes to the Arishok, she realised it had been a bad choice of words.

"There is no duty in this self-defecating city," his voice was harsh, and he looked down his nose at her again. "You are wasted here. There is no hope for these humans who flail at you for their attentions."

Her lips thinned, and her voice lowered. "That being said," she didn't want to argue over the city again. Her head was starting to hurt and if she sent a healing spell to it, he might just jump over the table and strangle the life from her. Lite had yet to ever use her magic around him or his compound. It would be like poking a bear, no doubt. "I have a job to do, and no one would benefit from me simply refusing to do it." She levelled her eyes at him. "I have a family to provide for."

He gave her his signature scowl, and she knew that they were not anywhere near done with the conversation or the topics they had brought up. He rose slowly, and then offered a hand out to say 'your messenger awaits'. Lite stood, careful not to knock her tea over as she moved her hand from the heat. It seemed a shame to waste it, but she wasn't about to chug it like a pint of ale in a tavern.

"The tea really was wonderful,"she offered, a slight smile on her face though her mind was gradually filling up with a list of things she needed to do. Get out of the Qunari compound alive for one. Her eyes drifted, glazing over slightly.

She followed the Arishok as he vacated the tent, and she was surprised when the Elven man opened the flaps for her, his head tilted with a slight pull on his mouth. He dropped them behind her before she could say anything, and shifted around her back.

The man fell into steps with her, behind the Arishok and his massive back, and she wondered why. He turned to look at her, holding her with forest coloured eyes. "The tea is called -."

"Oh," she let out. It was a lame response but he gave her no time for another as he bowed his head, and fell away, back down the path they'd taken.

Lite was relieved when they turned down a familiar pillared walkway. She hadn't been able to watch the camp as before, her head was spinning with two many things. One being the oddity of what she'd just experienced. Tea with the Arishok? Varic would shit his small clothes when she told him, Hawke was sure. Maker, the rumours to come out of that...

Still, Lite found herself not caring much for that side of things. Let them talk, they did whether she wanted them to or not. Anything she did was picked at, and oddly, she'd enjoyed herself. The questions were hard to answer, but it was humbling to taste something from their homeland and see them work when others did not.

When they reached the part of the compound she was most equated with, the Arishok took his seat almost immediately and placed his elbows on his knees to stare down at the men who waited for her. She stopped beside him to view the scene below. The messenger was practically shaking - poor man. He worked for the viscount and seemed a nervous sort. There were four city guards, as the elf had stated. No doubt at the behest of the man who didn't want to enter alone.

"L-Lady Hawke,"he said when he saw her. His eyes were wide as they flittered between the Qunari leader and herself. But never lingered too long on the horned man upon his throne. "The viscount wishes to see you."

"Of course," she returned, and felt herself shift into her hard mask. His back straightened and her chin tilted defiantly.

She turned to the Arishok and found he was watching her almost fiercely, and she almost jumped out of her skin when she found those dark orbs on her. Lite remained calm and bowed her head, "Thank you," she told him, and he grunted. There was no form of the word in his language, but she said it anyway.

When she started taking the steps, his voice rang out, "Hawke." She paused instantly, and looked over her shoulder. "We are not done." Was all he said, and she felt she do nothing but nod once.

As she reached the bottom, the messenger seemed eager to leave but she avoided him and went to the Karasaad holding her staff. He still clutched it in his hands, not having relinquished it. He handed it out to her palms raised and she gave him a smile as she took it and secured it on her back. When she turned back to the poor man who's legs were nearly buckling, no doubt from the look the Arishok was giving him, her smile brightened into one people often associated her for.

"Shall we be off then?"

"Y-yes, my Lady. The viscount is eager to speak with you on many matters." She strode past him, and he squeaked slightly before hurrying to catch up with her longs steps. The guards clinked as they followed.

Lite felt the eyes of the Arishok upon her back until she was no longer in his line of sight. It was odd, she had always felt his gaze like it was a physical thing. It appeared she always would.

( )

Welcome to a project I have been working on for months!

I admit, I've had a crush on the Arishok since first playing dragon age 2 year ago and I have always liked that Hawke is able to gain his respect. (And yes, I give Isabella to him as my Hawke understands that actions have consequences - don't hate me).

The Qun is not perfect, but sometimes I think it's less of a headache than the Chantry to be honest. That's not to say that everything about the Qun is correct, not at all - so for the sake of this story, please don't think that what Hawke thinks is always the same as what I do.

This is mostly an AU - as I intent to have it so that Hawke and the Arishok meet later on, after he leaves Kirkwall and gets 'told off' by his people. It could also be seen as Canon for the earlier chapters, as Hawke could have gone round to the compound many times within the years the Qunari are there. (And I'm pretty sure she would, even if she disliked him, just to cause trouble haha).

Apologies for any spelling errors. On the train and my internet keeps coming and going so I wanted to post this as soon as I could while I still could!

Kenna 'Lite' Hawke | Force and Lightening Mage

(Is a blood Mage in cannon - may or may not add that in this story)

Yes, I know the Qun does not accept magic and their mages are treated barbarically. For the sake of the story later on though, I'm having it so that the Arishok is trying to look past it. As he says, he can't speak for the others, but he's hoping she would join and be useful. (If Hawke even did join, I'm not sure what would happen if they were a Mage - as she's also a dragon hunter and very powerful)

Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

[#2] of Astaarit Asaaranda | Rise Thunderstorm

It was fitting that the clouds chose the second Lite stepped out from the towering Keep doors to open up. She sighed to herself as the rain fell quickly to splattered her uncovered hair and face. Her lips thinned as she started down the tall stone steps.

After the Viscount had heard of her visit with the Arishok three days before hand, he had been insisting that they use it 'to their advantage'. No doubt the words came from Bran, and not the not so clever thoughts of the old cot himself. She had refused to manipulate the Qunari on the first day, the second and the third. It infuriated the Viscount that she would not plot with him. He wielded guilt by saying the city would benefit and it would save lives to have a plan if the Qunari went haywire.

Lite tried desperately by the end of their last hour session to explain that playing games would help no one, in fact that would make things entirely worse. The Qunari respected truth, and despite it not always being the same as others saw it - honour. The Viscount ought to spend his time learning how to speak with them plainly, and not antagonise them by sitting up in his office while pawns moved around in the lower city.

Her thoughts were as stormy as the weather, and she was almost knocked off her feet when a worker bashed into her shoulder. She stumbled, but managed to catch her footing as the man shot over his shoulder, "watch where you're going. Sodding dog-Lord," when he spit near her shoe, she itched to punch his throat. The insults she could take, spitting was foul.

It was then that she realised where she was. In the docks. Her back straightened as she summarised she must have walked there subconsciously. When she looked over her shoulder, she found the gates to the Qunari compound. The rain fell harder then, and she had to blink the water from her lashes several times as she simply stood there.

The two armed guards out front watched her, and when one went to open the gate, she shook her head and turned to walk away. Deeper into the streets around her, hoping to get lost for awhile. Maybe then she would get a little peace. A loud voice ringing out above the thump of the downpour stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Hawke,"he called, and she knew his voice instantly. No matter what anyone said, the Qunari were not identical. They all looked different and had their own voices.

Her head snapped up, and her white eyes widened to see the Arishok stood in the entrance to the docks. A few people who had the misfortune of working through the weather were staring also. The only time he had left the compound was when he had arrived, she was sure. Yet he stood on the very edge of the territory they had been given. It wasn't that he was scared, he probably didn't want to grace the city outside his gates with his presence.

She almost couldn't blame him.

His eyes were unmoving on her. Then with one word, "come," he raised his hand and beckoned her inside. Lite found she had two choices: refuse, which would look incredibly rude, or follow his lead - which would mean people would talk. The infamous Hawke at the beck and call of the Qun.

No, she wouldn't do it for the Qun but she found she did not want to turn her back on him, not when he'd sought her out. She might not agree with him, and sometimes would rather not speak of the Qun, but she would not deny that she was beginning to respect him above all others outside her friend group.

When Lite moved to reach the few steps which stood outside the gates, he turned his back on her and entered the compound - expecting her to follow, of course. Despite the cold which was setting in, and the headache, she found a small smile on her lips. Hawke could deal with bossy men - she knew a lot of them.

He didn't wait for her inside, instead carried on to his usual place. She had to increase her stride length to keep up with him. The sudden movement sent a shock of pain through her head, but she didn't want to seem like she was dallying. When he reached the bottom of his large steps, he gestured to the guard who had taken her weapon before.

She unlatched her staff and handed it to him much the same as before and he clasped it. With the Qunari believing their weapons were part of their souls - or was it that they held their souls? He probably thought he held something far more important than a family heirloom - not that she didn't appreciate him keeping it safe. It would be as if she had lost a part of herself if something were to happen to it. She had, after all, called it her Asala though that might have not been strictly true.

The Arishok took to the stairs, his large legs carried him up them far faster than hers. Her eyes trailed to them for a moment, hidden beneath the leather drapes which hung from his waste band. His height still shocked her, even more so now that she was allowed up close.

He passed his throne, then started down the pillar path as they had done that one morning three days earlier. Hawke was silently contemplating as her padding beneath her armour stuck to her skin uncomfortable and soaked the floor at her feet in a trail.

She had turned away from the compound, not because she hadn't been invited or that she had no wish to see the Arishok, but because she had been conflicted. Still with the thoughts of plans and plots in her head and the slight guilt, the doubt that by refusing to play along she was doing the right thing? Her choices hadn't been the best for her family, even when she had their best intentions at heart so what gave her the right to ignore a command from the Viscount?

Her head and thoughts were in turmoil from lack of sleep and bombardment. When they entered the camp, she found people busy as they had been before. Some elves wore cloaks which look haggard and must have come with them, while the Qunari still worked in next to nothing - the rain pouring over their horns and chests. They didn't even seem to notice. The leather they wore actually seemed practical for all weather, now she thought about it and the red war paint didn't smudge that much unless they touched it.

"...they are still working through the rain,"she commented.

"And you are not?" He countered. Glancing at her from the corner of his golden eye.

"I was not working," she murmured, her eyes riveted on the others. "More like wondering..."

"Lacking a purpose?" He quipped, and Lite raised her brows at the slight smirk.

"No," she found herself telling him truthfully. She had to stick to her own words. "More so that I have too much to do, and little time to think and rest."

He looked at her then, like he did sometimes when his gaze was so intense she wondered how she stood it, how she couldn't actually feel it as physical thing.

"This city is not worthy of you," he told her, and she found herself shaking her head at his words, only to wince at the pain it brought.

"You are in pain," her eyes flashed open, and she was amazed he'd noticed. Not that he cared, she didn't think he did, it was more stated like a fact.

"A headache," she told him. No point in lying. It might make her seem weak but she didn't want him to think she was being rude when she shielded her eyes, and found it hard to concentrate.

"This way,"he told her, and she was lead to the same large tent as before. He hadn't told her if it belonged to him or not.

When he moved to open the tent flap, she stopped just outside. "My clothes are too wet," even now the water ran in rivets through her hair and over her armour. He paused in the doorway, his head bent slightly.

"Indeed," he seemed angry. Her brows slammed down. "That is why you must come inside."

"I'll ruin the-" she started to protest but he held up a finger to silence her.

"They are but material things. Now, come inside," he didn't wait for her answer. Lite rolled her eyes, and instantly regretted it when her head felt like she'd pierced it with her own lightening magic.

She ducked almost blindly with the stabbing pain in her skull, and squeezed her eyes shut as the rain suddenly couldn't reach her. It patted on the tent roof soothingly, despite her pain. It reminded her of a time when she had gone camping back in Fereldan. Her father had taken her and her siblings to a nearby lake where they'd made a fire and spent time not working, or avoiding the Templars.

Her fingers reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she still stood in the entrance. She heard the Arishok moving inside.

"Hawke," he said her name, and she forced her eyes to open. The light of the fire seemed less harsh than the grey sky above which dull rays seemed to penetrate her head more.

"Sit," he ordered, and she found herself too overwhelmed to argue with his tone. Luckily she didn't stumble as she reached the seat she'd taken before and sank into it.

The Arishok watched her do as she was told, then exited the tent without another word. She frowned, but knew better than to get up and poke around. She would just wait until he returned. Resting both her legs and head seemed like a good idea, anyhow. Between her mothers pushing for her to be more ladylike, to the situation in the Keep and the other problems which were laid at her feet - she felt stretched thin.

Lite had been the eldest child, and she had thought her job would always be to provide for her family when her father passed. She was still protecting, but it seemed to be more than just the Hawke family nowadays. No, that wasn't right. Even in Lothering people had come to her for help. Most of the time she'd told them to sod off, but there was the odd occasion when she listened and ventured out of her way for those who were not taking advantage. She had still been young at the time, only fourteen when people starting coming for advice.

It sounded crazy, but coming to the Qunari compound often felt like a weight off her shoulders. No one could reach her there, as most dared not enter, and no one asked more than she was willing to give.

There were footsteps, and she clenched her eyes as the tent flaps were opened once more. The Arishok entered, followed by the flustered elven woman who had served tea before hand, and the elven man who had given her the missive.

The woman came immediately to the table with the large teapot and cups. While the elven man stood nearby, his hands behind his back. "The tea contains medicine for your headache, Serah Hawke."

She was shocked at this, and her eyes flickered to the huge Qunari leader. Had he gone to get a healers help? He took the seat opposite her, and proceeded to lean forward intimidatingly as he preferred.

"Are you eating enough, and taking in the right amount of water?" The elven man questioned, and her brows raised as she turned to look at him again.

He must have been a healer then, to ask such questions. Hawke had always been wary of healers. She looked down at her self, then up and tried to humour to deflect his words. "It seems I've got that covered," she meant in a way that she was currently surrounded by a puddle of water.

His lips did not even twitch, and his eyes sharpened. "Very funny, Serah Hawke. Your jokes will not dislodge me from my thoughts however."

"You will answer," the Arishok intoned and she gave up on the united front.

Lite let out a shallow breath. "Yes, my health is no problem. I simply have had a lack of sleep in the last few days. That is all."

"Hm," the healer replied, in that way which all seemed to do, and made her question her own answers. "Unable to sleep, or not having the time."

Hawke felt her jaw tightened. Usually healers spoke to their patients in private. Still, she felt there was no choice but to answer with two stubborn men in the same room staring holes in her. "Both."

"I see," the elf nodded, and her look meant he would get nothing else from her. No explanation as to why she could not sleep. The nightmares and over active thoughts, the guilt and panics.

He slipped his fingers into the bag in his hip and handed out a pouch. Lite slowly raised her arm with her palm out to take it. He dropped it there then said, "Herbs, to help calm the mind before sleep. From the forests of Seheron."

She brought the pouch closer and raised her brows into her hairline. "Surely these would be better used on your people?"

"Take them," the Arishok interrupted, seemingly annoyed that she was reluctant.

"Thank you," she ground out. Not liking that they had taken to giving her medication and fussing over her habits. She didn't even let her mother, Varric or Anders pester her about it.

"If your symptoms persist, come to me in a couple of days," he told her, with a bow of his head in the direction of his leader.

"W-why?" She blurted out.

He raised a brow at her, his back still bent. "I am a healer," was all he said before straightening and disappearing with a swish of his long coat tails.

The elven woman who had been preparing the table finished soon after and followed suit. Bow and leave. But not before she gave light an eyeful again - her eyes often got a lot of attention. Good, and bad. Leaving Hawke once again with the leader of the Qunari armies. Instead of looking at him, she placed the bag in her pocket at her hip and turned to take the cup in hand. The liquid was warm, and thick like honey as she tilted it back and down her throat.

"If you conceded to join the Qun," the Arishok began as she lowered her cup. "Then your health would not be a question. You would be fed, watered, clothes and offered help with medical matters. You would not suffer at the hands of the vermin who pollute the populist of this city."

Lite felt herself breath out, and closed her eyes. The tea had softened the edge of her headache, but hadn't relieved it just yet. "I do not-"

"Don't lie to me, Hawke," he barked, and slammed a hand down on the table top which made the kettle and cups rattle. She startled slightly, but then shot him a levelled look.

"I will not allow this city and its chaos thriving glutens to ruin you." He appeared deadly serious of that matter, and she felt dread trickle into her spine. Just how far would he go to get her to submit to his religion and ways.

"Arishok,"she started, her face pale and steel in her voice which she could not hide. She did not like it when he acted thus. "If I were to join the Qun, it would be my own will that it occurred. I will not be pushed, or threatened into it." Her tone lifted slightly, and her fingers tightened around each other as she released the cup for fear it would smash.

He glared at her. "You are a stubborn woman Hawke," he said eventually, and she tried not to let out a breath that he hadn't turned the table over in anger. He was reasonable, she knew, as much as he was thick headed. "You fight for a freedom which pains you such, when you could come to the Qun and find where you are meant to be."

There was a look in his eye, and she found she couldn't be mad at him. He appeared to be confused by her actions, not understanding how she could not see the worth of the Qun. He forced the issue because he thought her life now was destructive. Perhaps that was a close to he could come for caring? Worried that her worth would be wasted?

She shook her head, "I have to leave the city for a few days," she blurted out. She wasn't sure where it came from. It was half trying to change the subject, and half a confession. Had she been worried of what he'd think when his scouts told him she'd left Kirkwall without an explanation? Something told her he wouldn't have liked it and would have let her know when she returned.

Maker, having to explain her whereabouts to not only her mother, but to the Qunari leader too? Hawke almost shook her head in disbelief but then she noticed the large man tense as soon as the words left her lips and all her attention needed to be on his reaction.

"Why is that?" He stared her down, leant forward once more. There was a flicker to his eye which she would have mistaken for panic in a humans, but she couldn't have been sure. It seemed too far fetched.

"I have business in a village two days out," she found herself saying, staring at the floor. "I will return within a week if all goes well."That sounded ominous to her own ears, and she looked up suddenly to catch his jaw tighten.

"You go too far out of your way," he cautioned, and Lite frowned instantly. Her fingers curled on the table top in front of her. It was something her mother wanted, for her to meet with some suitor - a friends son. She couldn't deny her mother that, as Leandra had insisted she couldn't turn her nose up until she had at least tried.

"I have not told you of my business there,"she gritted out, but knew instantly what his answer would be.

"Hawke,"he titled his head at her in an almost condescending action. "My scouts know all that occurs in this rotten city you call home." Was he bluffing? He seemed to be, and that angered her more than she expected. He probably thought she was doing the Viscounts bidding. Had jumped to conclusions.

She breathed in through her gritted teeth. She did not like how he assumed that. Surely he didn't know everything like he suggested, otherwise he would have confronted her about her talks with the Viscount, or maybe he was biding his time. Waiting for her to admit it? Testing her?

Her headache came back in full force despite the herbal tea. She closed her eyes, and placed her palm flat on the table to help herself up. "I must leave, there is much to prepare before I travel."

He was up from his chair faster than she expected of a giant, her head fuzzy and distorted as he closed in on her. "You will return," he said, and she found herself looking up at him. He was trying to intimidate her to come back.

She almost smiled, but managed to keep a blank face. "You'd miss me?"

He shot her a dangerous look at that. He didn't like to play games, but she found herself annoyed by his words and actions that day. Was he simply mis-informed? Her mother had spoken the viscount on the matter, asking for guards to assist them in their journey. Perhaps he had been mistaken and though she was doing something else?

"I said I planned to return,"she told him firmly, if more quietly. "I keep my word, Arishok. I thought you respected that."

He stared at her, hard, then started through the tent flaps without another word. She followed after and she could see from the tense line of his shoulders that he was livid over something. Did he not trust her? The thought addled her even more - yes, she wasn't of the Qun but she was still trustworthy. How many times had she come to his aid since their first meeting over the dwarf and the gatlok?

He obviously wasn't worried about pissing off a Mage in his compound. Did that mean he did trust her or did he just forget that she possessed magic because she hadn't used it in front of him? He confused her to no end, and irritated her more than even Isabella did sometimes.

He rushed through the compound, and she had to stretch her legs to keep up. She had obviously overstayed her welcome. They were both angry at each other for one reason or another. Hawke was too strung up to think about it anymore. She needed to stagger home and drink some more of that tea the healer had given her. Sleep, then pack. Then visit Varric. In that order, if she was able.

He sat upon his throne, and she felt his eyes scorching her skin. Lite got the feeling he was allowing her to leave, and it rattled her. She quickly stepped down the steps to retrieve her staff, then thought better about leaving without another word between them.

"You have my word," she told him again, looking up from her place at the bottom on the steps. It wasn't like he needed reassuring - that would be weak of him. But she found herself doing it anyway.

They stared at each other. Then he nodded, only once. "Panahadon," he told her. Safe travels. She was surprised she got that concession from him.

Hawke found herself stare at him longer than necessary, and he raised a brow as if he expected her to say more. Lite decided against it, and moved on. She felt his glare in her back all the way to the gates as she lifted her scarf across her face and hunched into the wind.

The gates opened for her, and seemed to close as soon as her feet hit the dirt ground of the docks. It took a few moments to make her feet move. They had disagreed before of course, they were bound to. But they had never parted ways so... Difficulty. He probably despised her for bringing the chaos he loathed so much into his camp. Even though she said she would return, she wasn't sure he would open the gates for her again and that unsettled her more than it should have.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Sometime later that evening, she found herself leant over her pack as she checked it for the seventh time that evening. Her mind was full, and so she needed to keep her hands busy to keep from over thinking too many things.

There was a tap on her door. "What is it?" She called, and the door clicked open to reveal her mothers face.

"There is someone here for you. An elf," Leandra opened the door all the way and stood with her hands clasped together.

"Fenris? Merril?" She asked, flipping the lid of her pack and knelt back on her leg.

"No dear, otherwise Bodhan would have introduced them as such." Lite rolled her eyes. Her mother was still prickly about the fit she had pulled about the trip and was trying to kill her with kindness.

She snorted as she rose from her knee. "You can stop with the butter wouldn't melt now, Mother." Hawke said as she passed. "I have agreed to come."

"Yes, but I want you to try and enjoy it, Kenna." Her mother called as she reached the stairs.

Try being the optimum word. Lite breathed through her nose. "Stop worrying about it, Mother,"she called back as she made her way to the entrance.

"When I asked who it was," Bodhan said from his place by the door," he said only that he was a healer." That caused Lite to pause on the carpet. There was only one elf that could be. What was he doing there?

Lite nodded, and went straight to the door. Indeed it was the flaxen haired elf who seemed to be able to run rings round whoever he chose. Hawke closed the door lightly behind her, and the elfs green eyes drifted in her direction.

"Serah Hawke," he greeted, and approached on quiet feet.

Lite crossed her arms over her chest. "Healer," she returned, with the smallest hint of a smirk. People under the Qun usually forsook their names in favour of titles.

"The Arishok informed me that you would be away for a week at best," the elf started, and she wondered why the Qunari leader had spoken to him about it. Then he handed her another pouch.

"These should be enough for your duration," he told her. And she looked dubious that he would come all the way just to hand her herbs for her sleeping. She was surprised the Arishok let him out for that. "When you should return, come down to the compound and inform me on the affects."

"I will be allowed back in?"she asked, almost too quickly.

The healers large eyes studied her, and she got the impression that he missed nothing, and remembered every detail. He could probably inform the Arishok exactly what colour scheme her house followed. She didn't question that he knew where she lived, most knew where the Amell estate was located.

"Were you afraid he would not allow you?" he asked, curiosity evident in his tone. Her fist tightened around the pouch and she feared that one action spoke louder than words.

Damn.

The healer raised those green eyes from her hand and smiled. "He would not turn you away,"and with that, the quick man spun on his heels and showed himself out.

She stood staring at the door for long minutes, mouth slightly agape. That sentence had been simple and yet entirely cryptic.

He would not turn you away...

A strange feeling settled in her stomach, and she found her muscles loosen from a hold she hadn't known was making them tense. Had she been worried? Lite shook her head. If she carried on, she'd have another headache and she'd had far too many for one day.

All she knew is that she would be permitted to enter he compound when she returned and somehow that allowed her to get through the next week.

And whether that sentence had meant he personally would not turn her away, or he would allow her in for the sake of joining the Qun, she would not allow herself to ponder.

()

End of part two. Hoped you enjoyed.

The Arishok is such a grumpy pants, but then, so is my Hawke when she wants to be.


	3. Chapter 3

[#3] of Astaarit Asaaranda

The Lad was nice. Lite would give him that much. But she was incredibly difficult when it came to having relatively normal, high society conversations. In fact, it was next to impossible to get her to concentrate on them.

Considering Hawke's past and current friends, she couldn't help it. When she was younger, the only people she knew were other farmer from Lothering or the odd Fereldan traveler. Her siblings and father were no better, they would talk about ridiculous things around the dinner table which would earn them all disapproving looks from mother; such as who would win in a mud fight between the Templars and the new huge bodyguard the old man three doors down had hired to protect his land.

Then there were her companions she surrounded herself these days who swore, gambled and spoke in innuendos at every turn. They hardly encouraged her to speak properly. Well, maybe Sebastian did...the Chantry loving Prince of Starkhaven.

And while her mind was on the topic of people she spend a lot of time around - a imagine of golden white hair and four sets of horns accompanied by a killer scowl filled her thoughts. Not for the first time, she might add and she had to force herself to keep a straight face and pretend she was listening to the conversation her mother was having with her old friend, and his son.

"Isn't that right, Kenna?" Her Mothers voice broke her from her daze, and she found three pairs of eyes turn to her expectantly.

Shit, time to make like Varric and bullshit her way out.

"Um, what was that Mother?" From the look Leandra gave her, she had failed miserably. Of course she had, since she had left the city Hawke found her brain had fallen out. Perhaps Kirkwall was her home now, more so than Fereldan and she couldn't seem to be away from it. Or the people who made up her family. She missed them terribly, which she was sure they'd all brag about if they knew.

...even the Arishok. Come to think of it, even that pesky healer. He seemed better company then the few nobles she'd met over the last couple of days.

"I am sorry," Lite tried again, plastering a smile on her face. "I feel light headed all of a sudden. Please, excuse me while I take in some fresh air."

"Of course," her mothers old friend eyed her with concern. "The balcony to the gardens are through those doors,"he gestured with his arms but she was already moving, having known where the door was after scouting the place when they arrived.

Lite took both door knobs in hand and pushed them open, then turned quickly to close it behind so that she could have some privacy. Hawke stalked to the balcony and gripped it in her hands, missing the feel of metal covering them. In her tunic she felt exposed. Overly so. Her mother had done everything in her power from bribery to guilt swinging to get her to wear a dress - it hadn't worked. If the boy, what was his name? Ser Dylan wanted to know her, then she wasn't going to present him with lies.

She was not a lady, and now that she thought of it, he would always be in danger because of her magic. Both of the men knew - as her mothers old friend had known her Father possessed it. The son, Dylan, had been quite and respectful. Though that could have been out of fear rather than showing a lady some space and manners. Lite raised a hand and ran it through her short hair. In the last few weeks it had managed to grow to her shoulders, she just couldn't find the time to cut it. Bethany had always said she looked better with longer hair, but she'd cut it for fighting purposes. Perhaps she would now, in her sisters memory?

The door clicked and her head snapped round. The son stepped through, and closed it behind him. He looked rather sheepish as he kept his back to the door.

"Lord Dylan," she breathed.

"My Lady," he appeared to steel himself to walk closer. She watched him place his hands behind his back and come to her side. Lite no doubt looked like a dear about to get run in by an ogre.

Conversation alone? Without her mother to filter her? Not a good idea. She was about as useful with words as Carver was - which was not at all. Even in the slightest. That's why you brought people with her who could do the talk, while she walked, sort of saying.

"I came to check you are alright," he said, and his blue eyes scanned her face. Was that honest concern there? Hawke still wasn't used to that expression from people. She'd been the one protecting others for so long she felt strange when people worried over her. It had been the accepted thing that she was the eldest, and would take the risks.

She was staring at him, she realised. And he must have thought she was even crazier, if that were even possible. Lite kept half expecting him to turn on his heel and run for the hills at the earliest opportunity. And so, she told him just that. The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of it.

His blue eyes widened slightly, then he looked to the floor with...regret and shame? Maker, why? "I have to admit, Lady Kenna, I do not wish to lie to you. My father would have you believe I am the perfect gentleman, with outstanding manners, but I found that I have been rude to you, even though I could not stop myself."

She tilted her head at him. "What do you mean, Lord Dylan?" She was utterly confused, and out of her depts.

He turned his gaze back to her, and he gave her a small, sad smile. "You are a formidable woman. I was...nervous, and cautious around you. You are...you wield magic, something which took my Mother from me. I feel I have judged you unjustly because of that fact."

Magic had killed his mother? Her own mother had failed to mention that. The colour must have drained from her face. For the concern flashed across his face once more. "Are you well?"

She shook her head. "There is no need to apologise, my Lord. You were not rude, and your caution is understandable-"

"No,"he raised his hands then at her deflated tone. "Damn," his cheeks heated. "Maker- I realise that my words were uncalled for then. I have accepted what happened to my mother, and though it still clouds my judgment sometimes, I did not mean to suggest you were anything like..." he trailed off, and raised a hand to cover one eye with a sigh.

"In all truthfulness," he moved his hand to scratch the back of his head, beneath short brown hair. "I am simply not very good at talking to woman. Especially ones of your standing, Lady Kenna."

Lite looked blank for a moment, sorting through her thoughts and emotions. Her lips twisted. "You have been truthful with me, Lord Dylan, and so I find I must offer you the same curtesy." She let out a short breath. "I am...not ready for marriage. As much as it would please my Mother, it would...not make me happy. Though you are a fine man, I would not be the right choice for you."

When she finished, Lite found herself ringing her hands nervously. It had always been Bethany who'd gotten the attention, not her. She had looked too much like a lad with short hair and baggy work clothes. Though Hawke had slept with a handful, she wasn't confident in the terms of relationships. Marriage still seemed like too far a strength for her - mages should never even hope for it. Her father had been lucky.

Dylan smiled sadly, and he lowered his eyes. "I thought as much, Lady Kenna."

"But I would like to be friends, if that is possible?" she cringed inwardly. Varric would slap her on the back for that one, or do that annoying slow clap. She was being as dumb as Avaline when it came to man's feelings.

"Of course, my lady," his eyes lit up a little at that. "You still have two more days with us here. Perhaps we could go riding together? There is a lake nearby I have been meaning to visit."

"That sounds good," Lite felt herself smile with relief. A real smile which she didn't use often. It had been a long time since she'd been riding.

"Perhaps we should head to the stables now so you can see them?" He perked up instantly, and she felt lighter for it. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, he was nice and didn't deserve her stumbling attempts at being civil. Most of the time Hawke used her bladed staff for talking.

"I would like that," she nodded eagerly.

"Let us inform our parents first," he swung his hand to the door. "Lest they think we've both run away." He smiled, and she let out a small chuckle, more like a huff of air.

He opened the door for her, and she gave him a shy smile before stepping inside. Both parents looked up to see them enter together. "Father, Lady Leandra. Myself and Lady Kenna have been speaking, and I would like to show her the stables."

"A wonderful idea," the father intoned. "Leandra?" He asked her mothers permission.

"Of course," Leandra smiled, but managed to shoot Lite a look which neither men caught. Her mother knew something was up, but she still managed a polite smile. "Do look after her, Lord Dylan."

"With my life," the young Lord replied, and Hawke felt her cheeks heat. That was unnecessary. They were only going across the grounds.

As the two turned to head down the stairs to the doors which lead outside, Lite asked, "How many horses do you have?"

Dylan was easy to talk to after that. When they spoke of riding, they both shared a common like and it eased the tension and nerves. They rode a lot for the two remaining days, as he leant her a fast black stallion. When he was reluctant to give her one of the horses who acted up sometimes, she told him the story of the mardy old stallion which her family had owned. She'd had a love, hate relationship with the temperamental git but he'd been loyal, and she could more than handle a young stallion who thought himself important. Dylan had laughed at that, and said he feared for the man she did marry in the end. That had made her face redden for quite awhile.

When they'd been all set the leave outside the manner, their bags packed onto the carriage. Dylan had given Hawke a quick, awkward hug and made her promise to write. She agreed, and found herself smiling as she took her seat and waved goodbye. That was short lived however, for her mother had pinned her with a stare when they were out of eyeshot and questioned her on all the details.

Lite tried to explain that she wouldn't just marry because it was expected. No, those things took time. Then she reminded her mother had she had been asked to try, and she had. She'd made a friend in the young Lord, and if it even lead to something more, then it was meant to be, if not...then her mother would simply have to understand. Being a Mage...it was not a simple life, and no matter how much her mother tried to ram her into a circle shaped hole, she was just not the right shape.

When she said as much, her mother looked stricken and surprised Hawke by reaching for her hand. She had always been closer to her father than her mother, not that she didn't love her very much. "I do want you to be happy, Kenna. More than anything. I will wait, if that is what you want. I was allowed to marry for love with your father, and although it was very hard, I will not deny you the chance."

"Thank you Mother," lite said, and she believed that was the first time her mother had really seen the real her in a long time.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Her mother and her had made some progress since their trip out of the city, and Hawke did not want to push it the first night they arrived home. And so she stayed in, sat by the fire with a piece of paper on a book and the ink pot beside her. Her mabari, Hero, laid at her back as a sort of rest, which she was grateful for. When she thanked him as such, he huffed at her and went back to sleep with his mussel on his paws.

"What are you doing dear?" Leandra asked, as she busied around the house. Sorting out meetings with her lady friends for the next week, no doubt.

"Writing to Dylan,"she said, glancing up quickly before she bent her head and bit her thumb. She wanted to inform him they had returned safely. She knew her mother had probably already sent one, but she needed to to it herself too.

"Very well," she could hear the smile in her mothers voice. "Do offer him the invitation of coming to Kirkwall soon." And with that, she swished away in a flurry of skirts. Lite shook her head slightly, and turned back to her task.

Half an hour later, she'd written a small note which had ink blobs on and some mud from when Hero had stood and put his blastered paw on it. She'd only put it on the floor for a second! She could swear he laughed at her too. A chuffing sound mabari made.

When she went to bed that night, she used to herbs which the healer have given her and it was then she remember the Qunari compound. Her mind had been elsewhere for the last few days, on memories and riding, of another life. Now that she had returned, she found herself both eager and oddly nervous to see the horned leader again. He might still be mad...still, the healer had insisted she see him, and that would be her excuse! He couldn't very well turn her away when the stubborn elf wanted to bother her about her health.

The herbs helped tremendously and she slipped into a peaceful sleep. The morning would come, and she would be ready for it. For once.

-/-/-/-/-

"Morning Hawke," Varric's voice found her ears as she shuffled into the entrance with toast hanging from her mouth, and her arms bent in an uncomfortable way as she was trying to adjust a strap on her back.

Hawke removed the bread and beamed, "Varric!" Before she dropped to her knees and proceeded to wrap her arms around the dwarfs shoulders.

He chuckled and hugged her back. "It's good to see you," he said, and it was completely genuine. Warm and sounded like home. While she was there, he also helped fix the strap she had been struggling with.

Lite didn't want to let him go, and so she rested her chin on his shoulder and squeezed him tighter. He patted her back, "Lite? How did it go?"

"I made a friend," she returned, and he laughed.

"You know I want the full story."

"I'll be in the hanged man tonight. No doubt I'll be dragged in their if I didn't turn up anyway."

"You're right. The others made bets on whether you'd be married off and madly in love by now."

She sighed. They often laughed at her expense but she loved them. "Of course they did."

"I knew you wouldn't go ahead with it. And I can't say I'm not glad. You wouldn't be much fun if you had a ball and chain stopping you from doing what she did best. Causing trouble and somehow still managing to save people's lives, and this city."

"I'm not going anywhere,"she leaned back and smiled at him before standing and taking a bite of bread. "Well, I am."

"What have you got planned for today?"

"I've got to see an elf about some herbal tea,"she returned, and Varric raised a brow.

"I'll be in the hanged man later, don't worry,"she laughed and patted his shoulder. "There still some breakfast if you want some."

He shot her a look at that. Meaning 'and brave your mother?' With that, she left him in the house and started for the docks.

-/-/-/-/-

The closer she got to the compound, the more nervous she felt. It reminded her of when she'd first started going - she'd feel her heart in her throat and walk stiff legged. That had lessened over time when she became less intimidated by the man who symbolised the Quns iron will. Now it seemed to have returned.

When she reached the steps, and hurried down them and turned to the guards at the gate. "Shadadon," she greeted, more brightly than she ever had.

They exchanged looks at that, and she almost laughed. They probably wondered what was in the tea the healer had given her.

"The Arishok is not seeing visitors," one said, in thickly accented common.

"Why is that?" He face fell like a stone in the ocean.

The two shared another look. "Come back again another time, Serah Hawke."

"I can't just leave after you tell me that. What's happened while I was away?" The two looked to be pulling faces. No one else would have noticed it, but something was defiantly up.

They converted in their own language, and she looked between the two. "Wait here," the one who spoke common said, and she watched him enter the gate. Leaving only one man to protect the entrance. Hawke nodded to the other, and stepped further up to keep watch with him. He looked down at her with one of those off Qunari expressions.

The gate opened and her head snapped to the opening as the Qunari guard appeared through it. She looked at him expectantly when then heard more movement which made her look through the opening in to gate. It was the healer, who looked like he hadn't slept in awhile. His eyes were slightly sunken and his expression was more stark than it usually was.

"Serah Hawke,"he greeted when he saw her.

"Healer," she returned quickly. "What's happening?"

He signed, but gestured for her to enter. Her tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth as she stepped inside. The guards closed the gates behind her. The healer turned on his heels, placed his hands behind his back and started walking. She kept up easily, more so than following the Arishok.

Speaking of the double horned leader, he wasn't in his usually place at the top of her stairs.

"Where is he?" She asked, and the healer looked from her to the throne and back again.

"Come with me and I will explain," he sounded tired. Which meant something was defiantly wrong as he seemed unshakable usually.

Hawke felt her fists clench as they made it to the stairs. The Sten were lining the walls as usual but it still seemed off. She'd spend enough time there to know. Without having to be asked, she handed her weapon to one of the men to the side and carried on after the healer who had paused only momentarily.

When he spoke she almost jumped out of her skin. The atmosphere was tense as they walked down the pillared walkway. "There was an attempt on the Arishoks life." Lite felt herself pull in a breath so fast she went light headed. Many situations ran through her head at that moment. God, no. Was it the viscount? Were they at war? Surely not, they had let her in and seemed to be acting as normal.

Then one thought broke through the chaos. Attempt. The healer said attempt. She hung onto that. "So he's alive?" She let out a deep breath she'd been holding, and found she'd stood dead still on the path which her neck so tense it might snap.

The healer watched her closely through those dark green eyes. He nodded, once slowly. "Do you not wonder who were behind it?"

"Of course," she blurted. But really she wasn't sure she wanted to know. He looked like he already knew this.

He gestured with his fingers to follow. "It was Tal-Vashoth," he explained, not answering her question. Still, she listening to his explanation as to what had happened.

"How did they reach him? Did he leave the compound?" The thoughts continued to storm in her head.

The healer shot her an exasperated look at being interrupted so much, and questioned so much. Patience was a virtue in the Qun. "They were able to breach the wall. They planned their suicide, and attempted to take the Arishok with them in the process. Three were killed, four injured and the Arishok himself," they stilled in that moment and she followed his gaze to the tent she had been in before.

There were two well armed guards outside. The huge four horned, the Arishok must have been inside. "The Arishok took a spear to the chest. It was poisoned, the tip. Had it not been for the quick action of our healers he would have died. Despite his perfect health before, the after affects have made him bed ridden."

Her spine was ramrod straight as he listened but barely registered the words. How had Tal-Vashoth managed to enter the docks and get that close to the compound? "Did you manage to keep any alive?" For questioning, though she didn't want to think of how the Qun got the answers they wanted.

"Unfortunate no," the healer breathed. "As I said, they planned their deaths."

"They will have left a trail, they always do," she replied quickly. Her fists clenched and unclenched.

The healer watched her, then nodded. "That is why I allowed you in. I have some things for you to look over. You know of those on the coast."

"I do," she agreed. But her eyes moved back to the camp and hers lips thinned. Her mind played through all the information. She didn't take her eyes off the tent as she said, "The Arishok...," she didn't know exactly how to word it without being insulting so she just said it. The healer seemed to be able to take it. "He took a spear to the chest? He didn't, I don't know, go into cover?"

The healer remained silent for a long time, simply looking at her and it put her on edge slightly. She did her best to hold his gaze. "He was baited."

"Baited?" Her brows rose. "By what?" What in Thedas could sway the Qunari leader.

"You," if he'd have punched her in the gut she would have felt less impact than those words left. Her face, damn, her face must have been a mix of emotion and very, very pale.

"What do you mean?"

The healer turned to view the tent. "One of the grey skins taunted that they had you prisoner, that they had ambushed you on your way out of the city. The Arishok...he was distracted long enough to be hit."

Lite face must have been incredibly pale. "I wasn't...," she shook her head. "I had nothing to do with this, you know that. How dare they use my name to harm him, to harm all of you."

The healer studied her again. "I have scouts posted in the city. I know you were not involved. The Arishok knew also, but still the words gave him pause."

Hawke felt dread settle in her stomach. What would they do to her if she could sway the Arishok as such? Would they kill her to keep him from being distracted? Maker, when had it become so complicated?

"Come," he said, breaking he thoughts. "What I have to show you."

"Can I not see him?" She blurted out, when he started to move away. "I know I'll never get passed that wall of muscle outside without someone else permission."

The healer shook his head. "If the Arishok wishes to see you, then it will be so." With that, he turned away and she had no choice but to follow.

When they made it to the healers tent, she suddenly remembered something he said. "You have scouts?"

He smiled at that. A sharp one which turned up only one side of it mouth. "My role in the Qun allows me to both heal, and have the need of...information. While we are here, our roles are stretched to their limits and so I do what I must."

Lite nodded. Wondering what his role was which applied both. "How are the others who were injured?"

"You care?" He asked, as they entered the tent. There were two cots: one for him and the other for a patient. Then there were herbs hung and collected on a shelf.

"Why wouldn't I?" She snapped. He smiled again, testing her. Damn him.

"How were the herbs I gave you?"he asked, as he propped a hip on his table.

Her face must have been a picture. "You're asking me about my sleep while your people have been ambushed? It doesn't matter-"

He held up at hand. "I am still a healer, and I asked you to return with the information, did I not?"

She wanted to smack him across the cheek, but instead she let out a breath from her nose and pinched the bridge. "It has been much better. Thank you."

"Or it could have simply been that you left the chaos of the city and thus your health improved," her eyes snapped open and narrowed at him.

"Enough with that," she growled. He smiled again. Her teeth clenched tightly. "Where is this evidence you wanted to show me?" She was mad that he didn't seem to want to jump into action.

And somehow he read her expression. "Oh, do not worry Serah Hawke. I am very patient, but my rage is something which boils up and then is spent on those who deserve the justice for their actions."

From his words, he didn't seem like a healer. He was simmering, she saw then, just below the surface and she did not want to be on the end of that fury. When they stared at each other for another silent minute, he then bent at the hip and retrieved something from inside a box on his desk.

He handed it to her. Lite found herself looking down at a dagger. Her eyes narrowed on it. The shape...what it reminded her off did not bode well. She looked up at the healer and wondered if he had any experience with blood magic.

"You look like you know something," he stated.

"I've seen these before," she stared down at the weapon in her hand. Gold and curved. "Well, not this one but ones like it." Then she met his gaze again. "They are used by blood mages."

The skin around his eyes tightened only slightly, that was the only indication to his thoughts and emotions as she spoke those words. "Interesting,"he said, finally. And she decided to ignore that comment.

She handed it back to him and he took it. "The Arishok would like to look at this when he rises." Rises? She didn't like that term.

"I'd assemble a team and head out to the wounded coast. That's the only place close enough to the city where the Tal-Vashoth can hide."

The healer nodded. "If that is what you think is best, Serah Hawke."

There was a voice at the door. The healer looked from her to it and then moved to open the tent flaps. The massive guard Qunari bent his head and looked at her. His words sent a jolt through her entire body.

"The Arishok wishes to see you."

()

End of part 3. Two uploads today. Woo.

Pretty happy with how the story is so far.

If you are interested in Fantasy, then please check out my original story - link on my profile.

Any support would be greatly appreciated and would mean a lot to me.


	4. Chapter 4

[#3] of Astaarit Asaaranda | Rise Thunderstorm

Warning: There is sick in this one. I know some people don't like it. It isn't described in detail, however.

Lite glanced at the healer and for once, she was able to see his true emotion. He was as surprised as her. Hawke started for the tent flap, feeling eager and anxious at the same time. Wanting nothing but to enter that tent and wanting to run away from it also.

She followed the towering Guard to his post, and he gestured for her to enter. He didn't open the flap for her. Lite steeled herself and took a deep breath, then reached for the flap which lead to the Arishoks personal tent. She didn't want to linger too long outside but nerves made her unsteady.

When she ducked inside, she found the usual curtain which separated his sleeping area tied back to reveal the Qunari leader laid in a huge bed which rested on the floor. Furs of all colours surrounded him, and he felt herself freeze on the spot. He was laid on his back, with his shoulders and head propped on a roll of some material. His eyes were open and watching her.

Lite didn't know what to do. She was so far out of her comfort zone, she felt like she was being drowned by a strong current in a lake. "Arishok," her voice was shaken to her own ears. Damn, he wouldn't appreciate her treating him like he was glass. She knew this to be true when he said nothing in return.

So Hawke steeled herself once again and walked towards him. She stopped a respectful distance from the bottom on his bed, only just on the line which separated the two areas. "How are you feeling?" She asked, and she knew it was a stupid question as soon as the words left her mouth.

He was furious, she sensed it now. She could almost taste it anger in the air as it rolled off of him in waves. She shallowed hard. "Can you tell me, Hawke, why the Tal-vashoth would use your name in their schemes?"

"I don't know," she returned, her voice low and cracked. To get to you? She couldn't say that out loud and so she looked away, to the ground at her feet. To the carpet which rested there.

His anger boiled over. The anger which only the leader of the Qunari armies could muster. It was terrifying. "You do not know?!" He bellowed. "We're you not where you said you were Hawke?!"

How dare he ask that! "You know where I was," she shouted back, her cheeks heated. "I have nothing to do with that attack, and you know that Arishok. Your scouts know that or they would not allow me inside your compound!"

Her breathing was laboured by emotion. She didn't care if he thought her weak then. He was being stupid! "I thought you trusted me! How could you accuse me of helping the ones who hurt you? Who killed and injured your men? I wouldn't not do that!"

He growled, and she took a step back at the sound. She'd never heard it before. "Do I, Hawke? Do I know that?" He sneered, and her metal fingers dig into her hand so hard she knew she was bleeding under her gloves.

"If the day ever came," she breathed out, her own anger making her voice hard. "When I was forced to face you and your men, I would not allow others to do it for me! I would face you myself!"

She knew talking about attaching him wasn't something smart but it annoyed her how he thought she could plot and hide while others attacked? It was bullshit. She never let anyone do her dirty work.

"You would face me?!" He bellowed so loud she took a step back. Then his faces twisted. "Do you fear me now, Hawke?"

She crushed her teeth together which bared them at him. "I am angry," she told him, and forced herself to take a step forward. "Not afraid. I am hurt that you would think those things of me."

"Emotions," the Arishok snarled. "Useless traits which mean nothing. You are weak if my words cause you 'hurt'. Those of the Qun would accept them and move on!"

"I am not of the Qun," she spoke in a very quite voice. Worse than screaming, she knew. It would scare her family when she used it because they knew then that her long patience was snapped. Her white eyes must have resembled a blizzard.

"And that is your flaw," he continued. "If you had been..." And his words hit her, her legs almost buckled. Was he saying that if she had been here, then he wouldn't have almost died? That she could have done something?

Her face must have been a clash of emotions for her closed his eyes. He lifted a hand to point at the tent flap. "Leave. Now."

She wanted to protest. To carry on their argument until it was fixed, somehow but she dare not push him. So Hawke clenched her jaw and stiffly turned her back on him.

He coughed, and she paused. When she looked over her shoulder, he was hunched to one side and his hand was to his mouth. When he started choking, all thought let her. She ran for him as she started convulsing and threw up at the side on the bed. It hit her leg but she didn't care, not when he could die.

"Get a healer," she cried, panic and fear in her voice. His body was far stronger than hers and she had to fight her hardest to get him to keep his head up. He almost cause her face with his horns but she didn't care.

"You need to sit up. Arishok, you need to sit up. Please." She managed to wrap her arms around his shoulder and half yank, half hold his torso up so he didn't choke on his own sick. She cupped the back of his head in an attempt to keep his weight up. It was straining and took all her strength.

The healer arrived in what felt like too long minutes. He knelt by her side swiftly to take over. "I need your help," he told her. "Get to the other side and help me hold him up."

She nodded and was already doing as he said. Together they managed to sit him up but he was still throwing up. The healer smashed some plants together and added it to water to make a paste as she tried to wipe the sick away with her scarf. The one her father had given to her on her birthday before he died. It didn't matter, she needed to make sure his mouth was clear of it. When she pried it open, she found sharp teeth.

"Don't swallow it," she told him, but he seemed barely lucid.

The healer came to them then and placed the bowl to his lips. "Keep his head up," he informed. "Make sure he takes this."

She grasped the back of his head to keep him from flinging it back while they forced him to take in the medicine. The thing which tore at her was that he was silent. He was suffering but he was completely silent. Unlike before when he'd growled and bared his teeth at her, now he was simply taking it. Without thinking about it, she pushed her fingers through his sweat sleeked hair at the back of his head and kneaded lightly.

The healer had to hold his jaw closed to ensure that he swallowed all of the concoction. When he had, they both waited for the shocks to lesson. Either seemed to breath or move an inch until his body turned from tense to lacks. Lite brought her eyes away only a moment to glance at the healers expression. She daren't ask any questions.

The healer let out a shaky breath, and she realised they could have been close to loosing him again. "Will he be okay now?" Her voice cracked, was barely even a whisper.

"There must have been been some poison left," he said, and he frowned hair. He probably felt like he'd failed. Lite felt like ripping her hair out but she still managed to reach over the hand which had been on the Arishoks arm and place it over the elfs hand. His eyes flicked to hers, shocked.

"You might not have known what the poison was the first time," she said, trying to sound confident. "You had no way to know how to combat it. But now," her voice cracked again. "These symptoms and the medicine you gave him. It should help you narrow down the search. Find the poisons name, and it may give us some insight into who these bastards are."

He stared at her with a strange expression. And she almost expected him to smack her in the mouth. But he simply took his hand away from hers, but not before giving her fingers a quick squeeze. "You are right."

When they looked to the side, they found the two guards inside and three others who appeared to be healers and carers. All eyes were on them. The elves at the front seemed to be staring at her with open mouths. The healers voice snapped them out of it though. "Take Hawke to my tent. Allow her time to clean, then bring her food and drink." The elven woman to the right bowed her head.

"I don't need to-" she began, but the healer gave her a hard look. "You have helped me much here, with the Arishoks life, but now you must leave it to us. I will come find you when he stabilises."

It was only then that she realised she was knelt on his bed, and her arms were visibly shaking. Her eyes must have been as wide as her mothers dinners plates. She hadn't been so shaken for many years. Not since her fathers death. That had knocked her clean off her feet and left her reeling for far longer than she...no, she was still reeling from that. Even now.

"Very well," she said, and rose to follow the elf out. She didn't look at the guards as the watched her, or the other healers. When they reached the healers tent, she watched the girl gestured nervously to the bunk so Hawke took a seat. It was then she found she'd wrapped her hands tightly around her sick covered scarf and had nearly put holes in it.

The girl appeared again with a barrel of water and a small cloth towel which hung on the handle. Then she bowed and left. Lite wasn't sure she was glad of the quite, of being alone with her thoughts. But she settled, if she was with someone now she might just punch them in frustration.

Hawke set about cleaning her armour and hair. Then she dunked her scarf in the water and ringed it out. She folded it and placed it on the end of the cot to dry while she bent her head into her hands. She didn't want to look in the water to see her reflection, not that she could now it was murky.

When the girl returned maker knew how long later, it could have been days and Hawke felt she wouldn't notice. The girl handed her a tray of food, with a cup of some liquid she didn't know. Didn't care at the minute either. And so she stuffed the bread buns in her face and chugged down the liquid. She didn't taste any of it, and had to fight not to throw it all up again with the way her stomach was playing up.

Hawke felt she had aged years in just a few hours. She placed the tray on the floor, not trusting her legs or wanting to disturb anything on the healers table. When she leaned down into the cot, she expected to close her eyes only for a moment. It was the day, after all, not matter how dim it was outside. But she found herself flat out as soon as her head hit the material.

She was woken sometime later when the flap opened and closed. When Hawke managed to clean her eyes of sleep, she found the food tray and water barrel were gone. Someone could have slit her throat in her sleep, still, she didn't care at the moment. The healer stepped through, looking more haggard then she'd ever seen him.

"You need to eat and sleep," she told him, and he shot her a look.

"Don't turn my words on me," he was snappy. Just like her. They both looked like they'd been through hell. The Arishok meant something to both of them. To everyone in that camp.

"How is he?" She asked when the silence grew too much.

The healer rubbed his jaw roughly, and Hawke was surprised he didn't leave red marks. "The poison is gone. I did all the tests possible to make sure it would not come back again. He needs medicine hourly though, until his insides are able to repair."

That sounded bad. "Maker," she breathed, and put her face in her hands. The healer was quite, so she asked more questions. "How long will he have to have hourly medication?"

"I can not say yet," he rubbed his forehead then. "Two days at a minimal." Hawke realised that he was trusting her with this information, and she felt grateful for that."

He read her expression again. "You helped saved his life, Hawke. If you hadn't done what you'd done, he would have choked on the poison before I could reach him. You would not have worked so hard to keep him alive had you wanted to harm him."

"I'm glad,"her voice broke and she had to cough to clear her throat. "That I was able to do that."

The healer studied her with those vastly intelligent eyes, and she simply stared blankly back. They were both exhausted. Even after her well rested sleep, she felt like she needed another twelve hours. She couldn't imagine what he felt like.

"Healer," she called to him. "You need to sleep-"

"No, I must oversee-"

"You can not look after him to the best of your abilities if you can barely stand up," she scolded. "Your people are healers, that is their role. Trust them to follow it."

She had him there, and he knew. His eyes closed in defeat. When he opened his eyes, she was pinned to the spot with his gaze. "He trusts you, and so do I," was all he said.

Hawke nodded, catching his hidden meaning. "You rest. I'll keep watch. If anything happens, I'll wake you."

He stared at her a moment longer before heading for his own cot and laying down. He laid with his back to her, facing the tent side. Hawke sat on her own cot and listened closely. He was a sleep within half an hour. No doubt stubbornly holding it off for as long as he could still, listening for any commotion.

Lite didn't care how long it took, she would watch over him and the Arishok, if from a far. She would not sleep, would not betray his trust and so she sat up, her legs crossed and her mind on a lot of things. That was enough to keep her from drifting.

The sky was dark by the time there was a voice at the door. When the healer didn't stir, she realise how exhausted he must have been. "Hold on," she called, and threw her legs over the other side of the cot to approach the sleeping elf. She touched his shoulder lightly.

His eyes snapped open but he didn't attack. His frame was tense as he looked at her from the corner of his slightly glazed over eye. "I'm sorry," she told him, for touching him. "There's someone at the door."

He nodded and was up almost immediately. She watched his head to the tent flap and open it to one of his people. They spoke in low voices which she couldn't hear. Instead waited for him to tell her whatever he wanted.

When the two were done, he motioned for her to follow him. She did, without much thought. They headed to the Arishoks tent again, and she was relieved when she stepped inside to see he had been cleaned up and made comfortable. He appeared to be unconscious thought. A quick frown at the healer conformed he didn't look concerned.

The healer called for her. "Hawke, come see this," and she watched as he showed her the herbs and such things he used for the Arishoks hourly medicine.

"Now watch," he told her, in a teacher like tone as he lifted the Arishoks head and placed the bowl to his lips. Hawke was glad to see he took it pretty much on his own.

"Why are you showing this to me?" She asked, slightly confused. "You're not planning on going anywhere, are you?"

He placed the bowl down, and she found herself sitting beside him as she'd been watching him work. He studied her, like he always did. "I would but find the ones who did this, were I able to leave. That I must allow to fall into your hands. But if it were that I were unable to do this," he gestured to the bowl. "I would like you to be able to know how."

She nodded her agreement. "I won't stop until I've found some solid evidence."

"You're only searching for evidence?" A small smile played on his lips, his eyes brighter than she'd seen them in awhile.

"I will find the people who did this," she told him, with conviction in her voice. "But I will leave them to you, and your people. They are not mine to judge...or fry," she added, and it was the first time she'd made a comment about her powers. He didn't seem put off by it.

"You are an honourable woman, Hawke."

She glanced at the floor, wanting to deny it. But instead she settled on, "Thank you." She looked at the Arishoks hand then. It was so large, with dark clawed finger nails. She wanted to reached out and grasp it but would not.

There was another voice at the flap, and the healer called for them to enter. It was a human this time, and she was surprised. "Serah Hawke," the person bowed and she recognised the accent as Fereldan. "Your companions are at the gates."

"What?" She blurted out. Then remembers she'd promised Varric to meet at the hanged man. "Damn it," she muttered then. "I was meant to meet them," she told the frowning healer, who nodded his understanding. "They came to check on me."

"You should go with them," the healer said.

"What? No. You just said, what if you're not around to-"

"I will be fine for the night, Serah Hawke."

She growled then, actually growled and she saw the human look startled and the elf smirk. "I won't leave him like this-"

"Hawke," the healer cautioned. "The Arishok is one of the three pillars of the Qun. Believe in him."

Those words stunned her, and her heart hammered with shame as her cheeks heated. "I do," she murmured, and she meant it. "I really do." She couldn't care about the Qun, she cared for the Arishok. He was the pillar she would follow. And the elf smiled, one which was genuine, like he felt the same.

"Go Hawke," he gestured with his head. "Before your companions cause trouble." There was a smirk to his voice.

"I would not question them breaking in, even if it would start a war," she admitted, as she stood. "I will be back tomorrow," she cautioned, with a tone of if you don't let me in, I'll bloody well start a war.

The healer smiled. "I expected nothing less."

With one last look at the Arishok, she turned on her heels to follow the human out. Just as the flaps closed behind her, she could have sworn she heard the Arishoks low rumbled voice along with the healers. A shiver traveled down her spine at the thought of him listening to what she'd just said. She shook her head to forget it for now.

When she reached the steps, she found the Qunari who usually held her staff gone. Her stomach did a small drop. No, she knew he wouldn't just throw it away. As she descended the steps, he appeared from out of nowhere with her staff in hand.

"Bas," he called to her, as he looked unsure of what else to call her yet he didn't seem happy about that word either. She felt she was more than just a human to their eyes now.

She smiled at him, and took the staff. He nodded to her, and she felt he must have heard about what had been happening. She gave him another smile and a nod before heading after the human and the gates.

"That will be all," she told the human as the gates opened. He nodded, and took off else where. As the gates closed behind her back, she suddenly felt sick. Almost home sick, like she'd been when they'd first arrived, like she couldn't stand to be away from home. She pushed the feeling aside strongly.

"If anything happens," she told the guards quietly. "Don't hesitate to send a runner." She knew they didn't take orders from her, but they both nodded anyway. That was all she asked.

"There you are Hawke," Varric called, his arms outstretched to her. "We were getting worried."

"Im here now," she tried to smile, but they saw through it. Damn, even the guards would.

As she started down the steps, Varric asked, almost panicked, "Lite, where's your scarf?"

She remembered she'd left it in the healers tent. Never had she left it anywhere but she knew it would be okay, that was the only thing which kept her from turning straight around.

"It'll be fine,"she told him.

"Hawke, you've never-" and at her pleading look, she quietened.

"Kenna, are you sure you're alright?" Sebastian asked, and she found her face would not lift.

"Yeah," she intoned, and reached for Varric's hand that he had on her arm. He knew something was up, she was never touchy feely unless she really needed to reassurance or comfort. He took her cold hand in his warm gloved one, then brought up the other to rub it.

"She'll be fine, Princling," Varric spoke for her. He knew what she needed. To head to his room and have a drink alone. "Come on," he pulled on her hand. "Let's go."

All she could do was nod weakly as he gripped her hand and they stated for the hanged man. Lite found herself squeezing his fingers. Thankful to him for his support and not questioning why she'd been in the compound so late.

She really loved Varric. To demonstrate, she bent while they walked to place a kiss on his head. He didn't object, as he would to anyone else, and she knew he loved her too. Both in their own ways.

...

Another chapter!

Thank you to all the faves, follows and comments.

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